Page 2 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

I schooled my expression into one of impassivity. “That aspect of the arrangement would be worked out between us, as two consenting adults.”

“Hmmm,” he said, then moved toward me, pinning me in place with those stormy blue-gray eyes. “There’s just one thing I can’t figure out.”

“And what’s that?” I asked, wishing to clear up any misconceptions.

“Why would you agree to this? You…. you hate me,” he said with a sudden passion.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I shrugged. “You made my life miserable whenever I visited Emrallt Valley. You badgered and bedeviled me, and you inserted yourself between your brother and me whenever we’d try to connect with our shared interests.

And according to your mother, nothing much has changed since then.

From the sound of it, you’re still a spoiled, selfish brat,” I concluded.

The prince’s eyebrows drew together in a thunderous expression. “I’m not a brat,” he proclaimed. Brattily, I might add.

“Then prove it,” I challenged. “Acquiesce to your mother’s demands just this once.

Come stay here for a spell and learn the ways of the elvish.

Spread good will on behalf of your people.

It’s meant to be a long engagement, and if at any point you wish to call it off, then we will make the necessary arrangements. ”

“So, you don’t want me,” he said accusingly. Interesting that that was his main takeaway.

“I don’t know you, Cedrych. I haven’t known you since you were a boy.”

He sized me up then, a slow sweep of his gaze that traveled the length of my body. Whether to fight or to fuck, it was difficult to say. “And you won’t force me to do anything?” He shot me a suspicious look, perhaps alluding to the sexual liberties a betrothal allowed.

“I can assure you, Cedrych, I am more than capable of getting my needs met without forcing anyone into anything.”

“So, you’ll still be fucking other people?” His eyes blazed with a fiery heat, his tone incensed. As usual, his true desires were obfuscated by his terrible manners. And I was losing my patience.

“Your Highness, I don’t know what answer you’re looking for here. You’ll have to make your desires known to me.”

His nostrils flared, but he said no more about it. “What must we do to make it official? Is there some sort of contract I have to sign?”

“I must bite you,” I said, already salivating at the prospect, which was both embarrassing and uncouth.

“Are you serious?”

“It is the custom of my people,” I informed him. The vampyric side at least. A betrothal was not sealed with a kiss, but with a bite. “My venom will linger in your bloodstream, for as long as it takes for us to reunite.”

“Like an infection?” he asked, the impertinence of him.

“No, not like an infection,” I said, trying not to take his assumption too personally. The prince was a stranger to our customs. Some suspicion was to be expected.

“Then what will it do to me?” he asked.

“You’ll think of me more often, as I will of you. The venom may inspire tender thoughts or more lustful ones, depending on your mood.”

“I’ll be forced to think of you?” he said, clearly aghast at the prospect. “Sounds like a curse.”

“The betrothal bite is a bond linking us together, one that should offer you comfort and peace of mind. I will welcome that attachment, but you have to want it too.”

He swallowed, tempting me again with his throat, then met my gaze directly. If he was searching for duplicity or any hidden agendas, there were none. “I still don’t understand why you would want this,” he said.

Did I wish to secure this trade deal with Queen Gwyneth?

Of course. But even without that lure, the idea of shaping the prince into a fine young gentleman appealed to me, if for nothing else than the possibility of his allyship in the future.

Maybe even a friendship? Having a companion–one who I could possibly trust not to assassinate me in my sleep–held some appeal after so many years of isolation.

But to share this with the prince might make me look pathetic or weak in his eyes, so I simply said, “I have my reasons.”

His eyes dilated and his heartbeat quickened. If my nose didn’t deceive me, there was the unmistakable tang of arousal in the air. “Where will you bite me?” he asked.

I took hold of his lightly stubbled jaw and tilted his head to one side, brushed away the curling golden locks from his neck then smudged my thumb against his golden skin. “Here,” I said. His throat jogged and his eyes squeezed shut like a frightened little boy. He gave me a curt nod.

“Are you giving me your permission to bite you, Your Highness?” I asked, teasing him just a little.

“Yes, just get on with it,” he said with a huff of impatience.

Cradling his head in one hand, I leaned in and drank in every note that told of the lands he’d traversed to arrive here at my doorstep–grass that only grew in the verdant fields of Emrallt Valley, salt from the water of the Lunar Straits, steel from his beloved sword that had once belonged to his father, and his own sharp masculine musk with hints of honey, unmistakably fae.

“Take a deep breath now,” I murmured as my canines descended and I traced my tongue along their smooth edges.

I licked my lips and kissed Cedrych’s neck so that my saliva might numb the sting, and then I sunk my eager teeth into his tender flesh, penetrating the thin membrane like it was mere plumskin.

His blood was warm, thick, and mineral-rich. He moaned wantonly and it was…

Divine.

The prince’s blood sang a primal note, fresh as the first snowfall and as sweet as the heady spring air.

I tasted the sunlight on his skin and the tannins from the berries he’d eaten for breakfast. There was a slight zest of fear too that I savored.

Despite his reservations, the prince was willing to be brave, perhaps even to trust me, eventually.

Trembling, he leaned against me, his hard length pressed flush against my hip, revealing far more than his clipped words and royal bluster.

I let him use me for support, my normally stiff body relaxing slightly under his weight.

He panted softly as I retracted my fangs and licked the few ruby-red droplets that remained on his skin.

“It’s official,” I said with warmth, which I attributed to the flush of heat from his blood.

His face was rosy, and beads of sweat dotted his temple, darkening his hairline and tempting me further.

“I’ll come to collect you at the summer solstice.

I expect you to have wrapped up your personal affairs by then. ”

In a daze, he touched my mark and nodded slowly. I raised my vanadium rod and, using my gift of metal sorcery, quickly fashioned a ring that was simple but handsome. I slipped it onto his ring finger, an outward symbol of the commitment we’d made.

“Is this silver?” he asked, turning his hand toward the light as if bewitched by it.

“Vanadium. Very rare, but it’s my favorite material. Strong and stubborn, it does not yield easily, but when it does, the results are magnificent.”

He glanced up at me, his expression open, vulnerable. I plumbed the depths of his tumultuous stare and found a soul in need of soothing. Possibly, I could be that for him, a balm to his fiery temper, a harbor for when he was navigating stormy seas.

Lest I get caught up in something as dangerous as affection toward the fae prince, I nodded briskly and said, “Feel free to roam the grounds at your leisure until your ship is scheduled to leave. I have some important matters I must attend to.”

The “matters” included me not taking advantage of his unguarded state, pinning him to the wall, and ravishing him right there in my dining hall.

I swept out of the room, tucked myself away into the nearest darkened alcove, and shoved my hand down my silk trousers in an attempt to quell the tension that had been building since the fae prince first arrived.

My mind was a blur, his taste still lingering on my tongue, as I stroked myself roughly, as though it were a penance, and spent into my hand like a fledgling.

After hastily wiping myself down with an embroidered handkerchief, I straightened my shoulders and collected my wits, feeling foolish for allowing myself to get so caught up in the moment.

Thank the Goddess this betrothal was only meant to be temporary, for the prince was altogether too captivating to resist. And if I was meant to teach Cedrych discipline, then I must also demonstrate some restraint.